The Memory Artists Part 19

"Because of that nude scene on the Adriatic?"

"Which one? The one in the film or the one in the tabloids taken by that ... that Venetian snorkeller with the telephoto lens?"

"The one in the film ..."

"Well, you know what I'm talking about."

" ... which was sort of integrated into the plot, I mean the character ..."

"Me lying naked in a gondola, rubbing Coppertone on my thighs? It had nothing to do with plot or character. It was more like product placement. Listen, Noel, please don't tell anyone about this, OK? I'm trying to put it all behind me. I have my reasons. Noel, will you promise?"

"Of course I will, I give you my word."

Samira looked him straight in the eye. Yes, she thought, I can trust him. "Can we change the subject now? Can I ask you you some personal questions?" some personal questions?"

"Within reason. But first I have to go the bathroom."

"You mean to your mom's bedroom to see if she's all right."

"Uh, well, that too."

When Noel looked in on his mother he found her sitting in the bathtub, in an inch of lukewarm water, wearing a bikini. "What time does the train leave?" she asked, more than once, while s.h.i.+vering. Where's the Bath Lady when I need her? Noel asked himself. And why isn't JJ looking after her?

"Find a phone," said his mother. "Call the princ.i.p.al. I can't remember his name. Just say 'the princ.i.p.al.' Tell him I won't be in today."

It took almost an hour to calm her down, another to get her into bed.

Noel pulled a chair close to her pillow, wondering which words would work this time. "Would you like to hear about ... let's see, that time in Florida, when the hurricane hit? Hurricane Emily? Do you remember? When everyone fled the island except us two? And the governor came on the radio and said 'Flee or die!'? And we ran out of food, but not alcohol, and got plastered?" Instead of smiling at the memory, his mother gazed at the ceiling with deadened eyes. "Would you like to hear a poem instead? A funny one, by Stevie Smith? No? I know which one. One of your favourites. You remember?

Wild nights! Wild nights!Were I with thee,Wild nights should beOur luxury!Futile the windsTo a heart in port,Done with the compa.s.s,Done with the chart.Rowing in Eden!Ah! the sea!Might I but moorTo-night in thee!"35 With her head to one side, Mrs. Burun regarded her son with a quizzical air. "I'm feeling better now," she said softly. "Thank you, dear. I'm going to sleep now." She placed her cheek languorously against the lilac pillow. Noel leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. He turned off the bed lamp, tiptoed out of the room.

From the hallway, with blurred vision, he glimpsed a light s.h.i.+ning palely from under a door. Samira's door. He walked to within an inch of it, but didn't knock. He'd apologise in the morning.

He continued on to his own room, where a surprising image-an optical illusion, a trick of the light?-awaited him. Sprawled out on his bed was the woman of his dreams, fast asleep, her dark hair spread out like a fan on his bone-white pillow. Her turtleneck sweater was pulled up, across the bridge of her nose, like a half-veil. He folded the bedspread over her bare legs and switched off the lamp. He then went down to his lab, where he worked until dawn.

Chapter 13.

Samira & JJ The next day the Burun house was a hive of activity. Picture alb.u.ms were out. Loose photographs were out, in motley mounds on counters and sideboards. Playing cards were out: one deck halfway through a game of Crazy Eights on the rush matting of the family room, two others on a butler's c.o.c.ktail table in the dining room, paused in double solitaire. Interactive Art, including sand paintings that moved when you turned them, was waiting to be interacted with. A box of Pelican watercolours waited to be painted with. A large inst.i.tutional clock now hung in the kitchen, above a bold-faced calendar, with a way of marking off the days as they pa.s.sed. There was a "reality" board in the same room, with date, place and weather conditions, as well as a "Schedule of Activities" bulletin board.

After a brain-deadening day at the library, Noel thought he'd entered the wrong house, a neighbour's perhaps.

"To help her orient herself," Samira explained in the kitchen. She and JJ were wearing red-bordered name tags. "Even I had trouble with your old clock, with the Roman numerals. And as for her tiny wrist.w.a.tch, well, not only do you need a magnifying gla.s.s to see it, but it has to be wound wound every day." every day."

"She never wore it anyway," said Noel, examining the reality board.

"Because she could never find it, or couldn't read it?"

"Both, I guess." Noel looked to his left. On the English-oak table, between stacks of photographs, were bags of groceries and a case of wine. And above the case, pinned to the wall with four green pushpins, was an ink-jet list: MEMORY FUEL.

B12.

Fish; Spinach; Poultry FOLATE.

Leafy Greens; Dry Beans; Peas; Chickpeas Tomatoes; Oranges; Beets; Soybeans Fish; Eggs VITAMIN E.

Leafy Greens; Sweet Potatoes; Avocados Whole Grain ANTIOXIDANTS.

Blueberries; Pomegranates Broccoli; Brussels sprouts; Carrots Cocoa powder OMEGA-3 OILS.

Oily fish (such as sardine and tuna) Walnuts; Flaxseed; Canola "See the last item on the list?" asked JJ. "Do you know where it comes from?"

"Canola? Yeah, it's a rapeseed oil, low in erucic acid."

"It comes from 'Canada oil-low acid.' We invented it!"

Noel knew this too, but pretended not to. "Really?" he said, while continuing to absorb the various changes and additions. "So ... where'd all this stuff come from?"

"While the cat's away," said a grinning JJ, "the mice will play."

"But ... who paid for it all?"

"A mystery donor."

"Come on. Was it you?"

JJ shook his head.

"Who, then?"

"A credit card."

"I scissored my mom's credit cards."

"It wasn't your mom's."

"Whose, then?"

"We can't tell you. When Norval authorised us to use his AmEx, he asked us to shut up about it."

"I was wondering," Samira quickly interjected, "if you could put the important numbers in speed dial, and then we'll put them up on the reality board. And fill out these name badges when people come to visit her. Your mom's been working really hard today, by the way. I've been cracking the whip. Hope you don't mind."

Noel was getting confused. Information overload. Norval Norval paid? "What ... kind of things? What's she been doing?" paid? "What ... kind of things? What's she been doing?"

"Let's see. I asked her to set the table, water the plants, iron two blouses, sort out the laundry ... among other things. JJ's been helping her."

"You did the laundry? But we have someone who does that. The Bath Lady."

"Oh, we were thinking of letting her go. You don't really need her anymore. You can't afford her anyway."

"No, you can't let her go. She ... doesn't cost all that much, really. Her services are ... subsidised."

Samira paused. "I've arranged your mom's clothing by colour and in a sequence-it'll make decision-making easier. She's not changing her clothes ... enough."

"Sorry, I ..."

"It's not your fault, Noel. It's the Bath Lady's. And in your mom's bathroom I've arranged her things so they're easier to use. And I've posted a bathing schedule on her calendar of daily activities."

"Wow, this is ... amazing. How did you ..."

"I got some advice from Dr. Rheaume and Dr. Ravenscroft. And took out some library books."

"That was my idea," said JJ.

Noel nodded. "Look, all this is great, and don't think I don't appreciate it ... but I'm not sure my mom is at the stage where ... I mean, I think she's getting better and I plan on making things even more ... better. I'm working on ... JJ and I are working on ... things."

"I understand that," said Samira, "and if anything can be found to help her, I'm sure you two guys will find it. But for the time being, Noel, your mom has problems. You have to realise that. I know she's up and down, but she still has serious problems. I'm just trying to make things easier for her. And you."

"Thanks, I ... appreciate it." Noel quickly looked away from Samira's penetrating gaze. In the cabinet beside her, he noticed an unfamiliar hole. "Where's the television?"

"In the garage," said Samira. "Along with the two others."

"But ... my mom likes history programmes and quiz shows and-"

"That was my idea," said JJ. "It's the eighth annual TV-Turnoff Week. Last year six million pulled the plug. Their website lists a hundred and one suggestions for alternative activities-like baking, yoga, gardening, reading. There's a connection between obesity and TV-watching, Websurfing and video games."

"And pa.s.sive screens don't exactly help Alzheimer's," said Samira.

"OK," said Noel, nodding. "My father would've approved."

"We also went through the kitchen cupboards," said JJ. "We threw out everything that contains artificial sweeteners, including two cases of Diet Pepsi."

"But why? I'm trying to cut down on calories and ..."

"Because," said JJ, "aspartame has been linked to Alzheimer's. Monsanto has known this for years. The information is freely available on the Net. The Palm Springs Inst.i.tute for Medical Research in California says it causes convulsions, blindness and loss of memory."

"That sounds like a complete load of-"

"Oh, and we took the liberty of buying a case of red wine," said JJ.

"For my mom?" asked Noel. "But didn't you just order some red-wine extract from Switzerland?"

"The ANOX? It's been held up. Anyway, a new study says the wine itself is just as good. Some chemical in it, I can't remember the name, stimulates nerve regeneration."

"Resveratrol. Researchers in Italy found that when it was added to human nerve cells growing in culture, they grew contact points."

"Contact points, exactly. And people with Alzheimer's have fewer contact points, am I right? So by having daily shots of wine you prevent, you know ..."

"Neurodegeneration. Where's my mother now, by the way?"

"Sound asleep. She had a bit too much wine. Don't worry about her, I've got my hand on the wheel. Oh, by the way, I fixed her treadmill. We're going to boil her blood for forty-five minutes every day. That's the key to alertness and longevity-boil your blood for forty-five minutes a day. That's what my grandfather used to say."

"By 'boil her blood' you mean get her heart going."

"And brain. Neurobics, I call it."

"How old was your grandfather when he died?"

"Fifty. He fell off his bike and broke his neck. Oh, and we were looking at your mom's sc.r.a.pbooks. Amazing. She's got articles on your dad's work back in the eighties! And articles on you when you were a little boy! You were both famous! And Dr. Vorta is quoted in some of them! So I'm making copies for my sc.r.a.pbook, if it's OK with you."

"And we found some things in the attic," said Samira. "I hope you don't mind us poking around."

"What'd you come up with?"

"These." From the kitchen table Samira picked up a sheaf of ice-blue airmail letters, with British stamps.

"My grandmother's letters! You found them! Fantastic!"

"There's magic spells inside a couple of the letters," said Samira. "Witch's spells, I mean. Good spells."

"I know, I've been looking all over for them for years! I remember some of them from when I was a kid. Where'd you find them?"

"In here." JJ held up a red-and-white chequered book, a battered and food-stained Better Homes & Gardens Better Homes & Gardens. "Flattened like leaves inside the pages. Maybe we can try some of the spells on your mom."

Noel stared at the cover of the book, remembering certain flourthumbed pages that had made his life happier; he could now smell and taste the desserts he had helped his mother make, like Rice Krispie squares and vanilla fudge and lemon meringue pie ("a luscious filling made with real lemon tucked under a fluffy blanket of lightly toasted meringue ..."). "OK, I'll try anything."

"One last thing," said Samira. "Your mom is becoming more and more ... silent. As I'm sure you've noticed. So I'm going to get her painting-it'll help her to express herself. Art therapy, by an amateur like me, hope you don't mind. I've only done one semester, but I'll do my best ..."36 "Yes, by all means, art therapy sounds like a good idea. A very very good idea-" good idea-"

"Our next concern is you," said Samira. "Because your system's run down. Caregiver collapse. Depression, exhaustion, maybe even guilt- it's common according to Dr. Rheaume. So JJ and I have drawn up a Top Ten list for you."

"Most of these are Sam's," said JJ. "Try to guess which two are mine." He handed Noel a piece of lined yellow paper.

Noel's 10 Commandments 1.Get enough sleep, and take time out to relax, so you can focus better on things that are important (like finding a memory cure!).

2.Eat three square meals to give you energy for things that are important (like finding a memory cure!).

3.Allow others to help, because caring for your mom is too big a job to be done by you alone.

4.Take one day at a time rather than worry about what may or may not happen in the future.

5.Structure your day because a consistent schedule makes life easier for both you and your mom.

6.Remember that your mom is not being difficult on purpose; her behaviour and emotions are being distorted by AD.